


A day like this

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [21]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Awesome Clint Barton, Bad Days, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Phil Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: (...) On some days, Phil just stops completely.He’ll power through whatever he needs to, keeping himself occupied with work and little else for as long as he can but when he hits a certain point, it’s like someone took his breath away. On those days, Phil deflates entirely, unable to do anything else. (...)"Phil is struggeling with his mental health. Clint understands. They help each other.*~+Part 21 of my Bad Things Happen BingoSquare: "Depression"
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701046
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	A day like this

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> so, because I love a good writing challenge, I'm now taking a part in the Bad Things Happen Bingo.  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/  
> Please mind the tags!
> 
> I'm cross-posting this to my tumblr, https://banashee.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my twenty-first square: "Depression".

****

**A night like this  
**

On some days, Phil just _stops_ completely. 

He’ll power through whatever he needs to, keeping himself occupied with work and little else for as long as he can but when he hits a certain point, it’s like someone took his breath away. On those days, Phil deflates entirely, unable to do anything else. 

If it is a really bad day, he might not even find the energy to get out of bed to shower or feed himself, even now that he is on a combo of medication. Those days are not as often now, but they still happen quite frequently. Especially after long or hard work days. Weeks.

When those days happen, he calls in sick to work then and feels incredibly guilty about it. 

Agent Coulson is amongst SHIELD’s higher ranking agents, and thus an important factor in the planning of recent and upcoming missions. He takes pride at being good at his job, and it satisfies him most days, although there is also the ever present looming of “What if” in the back of his head. 

What if he messes up when his brain betrays him?

What if someone gets hurt or dies because he’s making a mistake?

What if a important mission is delayed or endangered when Phil is home in bed for days on end because he simply can’t force himself to get up?

What if some day, he’ll look into the muzzle of a gun and doesn’t care if the bullet hits him?

It’s not like he never thought about finishing the job himself.

Phil has probably spent more years with a loaded gun, a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of vodka in the drawer of his bedside table than most people would guess.

“This comes with the job, most people in this profession end up with PTSD and depression at some point.” some might say, and while they’re statistically right, Phil can’t remember a life without the darkness in his head.

He is able to deal with it on his own for quite some time - but it isn’t until years later when he hits rock bottom that he realizes how bad things really are. Phil manages to reach out for help, but the gun, pills and alcohol in his drawer remain there for a long time.

He hasn’t touched either the gun or the alcohol in almost 2 years - he considers it progress.

*+~

Today is one of the bad days. 

To be fair, it’s been one hell of a month, and Phil has expected the crash sooner rather than later, but he does make it home after a gruelling debrief. Here, he can finally let go of Agent Coulson and simply be Phil.

Agent Coulson is always impeccable and calm, capable. Phil is struggling and exhausted.

It’s only when he just locked the apartment door behind him that he realizes that he needs a refill for his prescriptions. It’s too late to go out now, and he highly doubts he’ll be able to go in the upcoming days, when he’ll have to try and get back on track as best as he can. That usually takes up all of his energy. 

Damn it. 

Phil curses under his breath. He can feel his eyes welling up with tears and fights to hold them back - he does not need this. None of it, not right now when all he wants to do is sleep. 

Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Rinse and repeat. 

He can do this.

Except, it is late at night or very early in the morning, Phil has been on his feet for too long and his mind screams at him for a break. 

Forcing himself to keep breathing is all he can do for now, and it takes Phil half an eternity to take off his shoes and jacket. While he does so, he notices the pair of purple canvas shoes haphazardly piled into a corner and despite everything, Phil smiles.

He won’t have to be alone after all.

Despite being friends for many years, the romantic relationship with Clint is still fairly new. It has probably taken them much longer than it should have to get their shit together and finally get a move on after many months - some might say years - of mutual pining. But they figured it out, despite personal hang-ups and insecurities .

What they have now is solid, real and very much the best thing that happened to either of them in a very long time. 

Occasionally, when their schedules allow for it, Phil gets the treat of coming home to find his partner already there. It always brightens his mood, at least a little bit. 

And really, when he enters the half dark bedroom, there is a lump under the blankets which Phil knows contains Clint. In the low light of the dimmed reading lamp, he can make out a bit of dirty blond hair sticking out from under the blankets. If it wasn’t the sight, the soft snore alone would tell-tale enough. And so is the dog bed in the corner, even when it is empty. 

Surprising absolutely no one, Lucky is sprawled on the end of the king size human bed, fast asleep like Clint and clearly satisfied with himself. 

Phil can’t find it in him to care. On the contrary, he is very much looking forward to spending the foreseeable future cuddling with Clint and the dog. 

Luckily, neither of them needs to be anywhere until Wednesday. Hopefully, he’ll feel a little more human by then, Phil thinks. He doesn’t want to call out of work, but he knows Nick wouldn’t say anything about it. He knows, after all.

Phil pulls some clean clothes from his closet and enters the bathroom to take a shower. 

For one, he feels disgusting at the moment. But on the other side, he’s not sure when he’ll have the energy to do anything about it next. Clint would help him, he knows now. But still.

The hot water feels comfortable on his sore and heavy muscles, but Phil can feel his eyes almost falling shut. He startles himself out of the trance, forcing himself to wash up. His movements are sluggish with exhaustion and hands that are starting to shake. 

By the time he steps out of the shower, Phil is dead on his feet. But when he pulls the shirt over his head, something catches his eye on the bathroom counter - it is obnoxiously pink and faintly heart shaped. Not something he usually tends to keep in his bathroom. Phil squints at it from a distance, and then he steps closer. 

It is a giant post-it-note, cut out like a lopsided heart and a familiar scrawl on it.

‘Picked it up for you. ♥”

Under the post-it note, there is a brand new bottle of Phil’s antidepressants, sitting right next to the most recent bottle of Clint’s own prescriptions.

The gesture might be small, but it means the world to Phil. He looks at it and asks himself what he ever did to deserve someone caring like this by his side. 

He takes his second dose of the day. It’s late for it, way too late by the clock, but he figures it’s better than not taking it at all. 

Phil is careful when he crawls into bed, not wanting to wake Clint, but he stirs immediately when the bed dips down under the weight of another person and his usually sharp eyes blink open. They’re soft and sleepy now, lighting up with happiness when he realizes that Phil is here.

“Hey, you’re home.” his voice is slightly croaky with sleep. “You okay?” he asks then, and Phil just hums without really answering. 

He lightly taps Clint on the temple, their way of asking “Are you okay?” when Clint doesn’t wear his hearing aids and it is too dark to sign. Or for when they’re simply too tired. Phil is certainly tired, and this is easier.

“Could be worse.” Clint shrugs a little. It’s that kinda night - they are both familiar with it.

Phil keeps one hand running over the light stubble on his cheek while they kiss. Then he allows himself to be pulled close, gracelessly flopping down on top of Clint who doesn't seem to plan on letting go of him anytime soon. 

They stay wrapped around each other, and Phil takes a few shuddering breaths. 

“Bad day?” Clint asks quietly, and Phil just nods against him. He doesn’t give a verbal answer because the hearing aids are on the bedside table. The very same one with the gun and the vodka in the drawer. 

‘ _No. Stop thinking about that_.’

Talking also seems like a bad idea now - they might do so tomorrow, always needing to make sure the other is okay after they have spent time apart. 

Instead of an answer, Clint just hugs him closer, pressing a kiss into his dark hair as they drift off to sleep together.

The thing is, both of them know what difficulties can come with a messed up brain chemistry and too many painful life experiences. 

Life has been unkind to both of them, on different and similar occasions. They deal with it as best as they know how - sometimes, that means they can’t cope on their own at all, and this is when love and trust come in handy.

Having a shower or forcing down a meal is a lot easier with someone close by. Someone who understands, helps or simply is there.

Phil is asleep within minutes, but clinging on for dear life. He barely notices Lucky shuffling over and laying down right on top of their feet, warm and alive, and Phil finds that he can finally let go for a while now.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:
> 
> \- Mental health issues  
> \- Depression  
> \- Suicidal thoughts  
> \- Coping with depression and suicidal thoughts  
> \- Discussion of medication  
> \- Alcohol, but not alcoholism


End file.
